Friendship: The Good and the Bad
by Siriusgirl1
Summary: Four years later, the former Hosts contemplate their lives. What happened to them? How have friends become strangers? And strangers become friends? And, more importantly, where is the one link that held them together? Where is the sun that warmed them?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

Hello, it's me again! Goodness, I seem to be quite taken in with writing Ouran-based fanfics - not that I'm complaining, of course, but...it does sort of get irritating when I'm supposed to be studying. Oh well.

The premise for this fic; hmm, I'm not really entirely sure as to how this came about, but I do vaguely recall that it had something to do with exploring the bonds, the threads if you like, that bound the hosts to each other. Each of the hosts were important to the club, and therefore to each other - on a level based purely on friendship and nothing more - which made them rather close to each other, in their own...er...unique ways.

As I was mentally ranting on how beautiful the whole 'system' - as it were - was, I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if the 'threads' were severed - not stretched thin, but actually severed. Adding that to the fact that I have had the sudden urge to further explore the character of Nekozawa Umehito - who I've never really thought much of, except for fondly finding him _hilarious_ - well, I guess this is the result of it!

I _do_ apologize if none of that made any sense, but do try and bear with it, please!

**Disclaimer: **I'd love to say I owned everything to do with _Ouran High School Host Club_...but everyone knows that that's nothing but wishful thinking. It's all Bisco Hatori's, not mine!

* * *

**Chapter One**: **How Times Change**

The sound of birds chirping right outside the large windows of his room was the first thing that he heard as he opened his eyes, escaping the clutches of the dream world that had held him captive for...a couple of hours. Sighing softly, he allowed himself to lie on his back in the large, comfortable bed, content with staring up at the wooden beams above him and listening to the birdsong.

He was so deep in his feelings of immaterial bliss that he did not hear the first or second knocks on the door. In fact, he was snapped out of his state of contentment only when he heard the soft sound of shoe-clad feet scuffling occasionally on the wooden floorboards.

Turning his head to his left, he was met with a pair of turquoise eyes; eyes that smiled upon seeing him awake.

"Ohay – good morning," he said, quietly, as he watched the turquoise-eyed male observe him for a moment.

"Good morning to you too, Tamaki," said the golden-haired male, in his usual soft voice. He cringed slightly as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, only to find himself exposed to a great deal of light from the opened windows. He soon recovered, however. "I trust that you slept well?"

The still-in-bed golden-male paused for the briefest of moments before nodding.

"Yes, I did," he said, just as quietly as before. "Thank you." His companion frowned slightly.

"How many times must I tell you Tamaki, that you need not thank me every single day?" A wry smile twisted the half-French boy's lips in a manner that would have startled those who knew him.

_Those who _had_ known him,_ corrected his companion mentally, and a touch sadly.

"I can't help it," he said. "If it wasn't for you...I..." he allowed his voice to trail off as a distant, almost vacant glaze took over the once-bright and shining purple eyes.

Knowing what the younger man was probably thinking of, his turquoise-eyed companion decided to put an abrupt end to it – at least for the moment.

"That is all in the past, Tamaki. I don't see why you insist on bringing it up so often." His tone softened as he watched the glaze disappear from the eyes, telling him that he was _back_, that he had bidden his thoughts of the past goodbye, at least for a short while. "In any case, I was wondering if you had anything planned for today."

There was a slight pause, during which the continuing birdsong was all that was heard.

"Well." There was a – twisted – smile on the still-a-bed man's lips. "Apart from lying around in bed, being seen by the doctors, and having the occasional meal...I wouldn't say that I have anything planned."

His companion resisted the urge to frown at the tremor of bitterness that he heard in his voice.

"That's good then," he said, keeping his voice light. "Because I was thinking that we should go out." As the younger male raised his eyebrows, somewhat sardonically, he flushed. "I meant go out _of the house_."

Despite his slight embarrassment, he couldn't help but feel relieved when his companion chuckled softly, and much too-briefly.

Regardless, a chuckle was still a chuckle. And he hadn't heard any from the twenty one year old since ---

Don't_ go there. Really._

"Forgive me if I'm not exactly leaping for joy at the idea," said the purple-eyed boy, after a moment or two. "Leaving aside the fact that I _can't_ leap – for joy or for anything else – there _is_ also the slight fact that I can't really _move_."

The turquoise-eyed man waved a hand casually.

"A wheelchair isn't just meant to be used at _home_, Tamaki," he reminded him. "And besides, it's a lovely day outside. It's certainly not the type of day that should be spent indoors."

A wary expression spread across the younger male's face.

"I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Nonsense. It's a pretty good idea, and you know it."

"I just...if you want to get out of the house, please, feel free to leave. Don't concern yourself about me. I'll be-"

"-Stop being stubborn. How long do you intend on shunning the outside world, Tamaki?"

"...I do not _shun_ the-"

"-When was the last time you left the house? No, don't look at me like that, just answer the question."

"I don't-"

"-Tamaki, you've shut yourself off from the rest of the world ever since this whole thing happened." The turquoise-eyed male raised a hand to silence his younger companion. "Now I understand your reasons for doing that, but...must you _continue_ to do so? The...ones you wish to avoid, you _have_ avoided them, haven't you? They don't have a clue as to where you are. And no one here knows you. You can't keep doing this to yourself Tamaki."

He paused for a moment. "In fact, _I_ won't let you keep doing this to yourself."

"You really are annoying," grumbled the purple-eyed boy, as he closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Really, _really_ annoying."

But his companion was not the slightest bit insulted. With a kind, relieved smile on his face, he hopped off the edge of the bed and crossed over to the closet at the other end of the room. Throwing the wooden doors open, he picked out a pair of jeans along with a short-sleeved t-shirt, before heading back towards the bed.

"Come on then, it's time to get out of bed!" he said, with a cheerfulness that he most certainly had _not_ had – or displayed – four years ago. Ignoring the younger male's half-hearted protests, he helped him into a seated position on the bed, being very careful to support his back as he did so.

"You don't have to do this, you know," grumbled the purple-eyed boy, as he grudgingly allowed his companion to unbutton his pyjama top before sliding it off his shoulders and then discarding it on the bed.

"Oh, I take it you miss the maids' gentle touches?" he questioned, a touch teasingly.

"I'm not a pervert," was the mumbled reply he got as he picked up the ugly yet necessary contraption that lay on a chair beside the bed. As he brought the back-brace closer to the now seated man, he noticed the lack of the usual defeated expression on his face, and remembered that he had stopped looking at the contraption in that manner a year ago.

Which was a very great improvement.

"Now stay still," he muttered, as he slipped the item over his friend's – yes, that was what they had become; friends; even though the mere thought of it would have terrified the half-French young man a couple of years ago – shoulders. Adjusting the position of the now motionless male's arms, he quickly set about fastening straps across the – he frowned – sunken chest and around the area just above the male's waist.

He tightened them as much as he dared to, without hurting his friend. "Bear with me for just one more second," he said quietly, although the younger male had not said a word, not even if it _had_ hurt him. Slipping behind him on the bed, he adjusted the firm frame of the brace, so that the medically padded area fit exactly over the expanse of his spine that was...damaged.

When that was done, he gave the brace one last pat before slipping away from behind him. "There, it's done. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

The purple-eyed boy shook his head.

"It's infinitely better than what I...had to deal with before..." he said, softly. And the turquoise-eyed male could not help but agree. The first few months after that life-altering, near-fatal accident had been, without a doubt, the _worst_ times of his life – of _both_ their lives. With no one to support the half-French male, he had risen to the occasion, and was very glad that he had done so, for he did not know where the younger male would be now if he had not had even the slightest bit of support.

The contraptions that he had had to wear, mainly for his back, had been painful not just to look at but to see him in as well. There had been many nights of him hearing muffled cries from outside the firmly shut door to his friend's room, along with many days of tear-filled eyes as the slightest movement evoked pain from both the injury _and_ the brace. And that was leaving out the months of depression that he had watched the boy fall into.

He _was_ still a boy; a boy who had had to grow up too fast, in a most cruel manner. And that irked him, mainly because he didn't deserve any of it.

"I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me for a while more," he said, snapping himself out of his reverie as he held the white short-sleeved t-shirt up. With an almost inaudible sigh, the purple-eyed boy nodded, his shoulders looking a little bit slumped.

Refusing to give in to his melancholy thoughts, the turquoise-eyed male slowly and carefully slipped his friends arms into the shirt sleeves, before pulling the fabric down over his head and back. The back brace that his friend wore now was quite a bit slimmer when compared to the previous ones, and that meant that he didn't need to get oversized t-shirts or shirts – he could actually fit in to a smaller size.

Stepping away, he watched his friend tug at the t-shirt until he was satisfied. "Right. Your jeans..." His friend's shoulders _did_ slump this time, and he found that he could not find fault with him for it. Having to depend on others for the slightest things such as getting _dressed_...

...well, he had been putting up with it admirably thus far, and both he and the maids in the household made sure to keep encouraging him.

"I'm not going to throw a fit. Go ahead."

"Alright." With a bit of help from the purple-eyed male, he managed to slide his pyjama bottoms off him – stifling a smile when he saw the Disney boxers that he had on underneath – before helping him into his jeans. His hands were slapped away when it came to zipping and buttoning up.

"I can do this much," was the soft reply he got to his unvoiced question. "Sometimes..." And sure enough, he managed to pull the zip up halfway, before it became evident that his hands were betraying him once more.

"The doctors did say that you'll need a lot of practice," murmured his older friend as he pulled the zipper up the rest of the way. "There will be times when your muscles fail you, but there will also be times when they allow you to do things like this."

"Wonderful. I can certainly see myself in my sixties, unable to anything at all." He blinked when a finger was wagged in his face.

"No pessimism today," said his companion, in a mock-stern voice. "It's too good a day to be dwelling on such dark things."

"And to think I never thought the day would come when I would hear _you_ warning people against anything 'dark'."

He received a cheery, if not somewhat embarrassed smile in reply to that.

"We all have our days," said his companion, even as he warily eyed the bright sunlight outside.

"Thank you." The whisper caused him to draw his eyes back on to the seated figure. He stared at his friend's lowered head for a moment before gently placing a hand on his head, ruffling the golden locks on it. "H-hey..."

"I told you, there's no need for any of that," he said, a touch affectionately as he watched the younger male make his best attempt to smoothen his hair – which was difficult, given the fact that his arms decided to sporadically lose their power.

He ruffled the hair once more, earning himself a half-hearted glare.

"U-me-_hi_-to!"

"Come on, we've wasted enough time as it is." Helping his friend up, the turquoise-eyed man half-carried half-helped him towards the comfortable wheelchair that was always next to the bed. A few minutes of checking and double-checking later, the...injured male was securely and comfortably seated.

He watched as his friend walked around the room, grabbing a pair of shades, a handkerchief and a hat, and stuffing them into a light bag before slinging it over his shoulder.

"Where are we going anyway?" he queried, as his once-sparkling eyes travelled to the window and took in the...nice weather outside.

"Hmm...maybe the park?"

"You're not taking me to some Black Magic Market or something like that, are you?"

"You wound me. As R- an acquaintance used to imply, that kind of thing isn't popular with the ladies." He prayed that his friend hadn't heard his near slip-up, of mentioning the name of that 'acquaintance'. Names from the past were _not_ mentioned in his company after all, saddening though the fact was.

"Hmm. So we're going out to pick up women? I've changed my mind, I'd like to stay in and read." He lightly smacked the seated male's head. "Hey! Watch it. Knowing my luck-"

"-Quiet, you. Enough of this; let's go. And _no_, Tamaki, we're not going out to pick up women."

"Sarcasm evidently goes right over your head, Umehito."

_It would do the same when used on anyone who knew the old Suoh Tamaki,_ thought Umehito, sadly, as he stared at the back of the golden-head. _Because sarcasm was one thing that the 'king' did not do..._

"When used properly, it doesn't. But I suppose I can't expect anything better from you," he said instead, feigning a sigh – which elicited a disgruntled grunt from his friend – before pushing the wheelchair towards the door, and then out of the room.

They had not gone far when a maid appeared out of the blue, startling both golden-haired men as she was prone to doing.

"What about breakfast, young masters?" queried the dark-haired maid, her cat-like eyes lingering a moment longer on the wheelchair-bound young master. "_He_-" Tamaki 'eeked' despite himself as she flung out an arm to point accusingly at him. "-Is not eating enough. _Look_ at him. He," she stepped closer, "needs," Umehito watched as his friend quivered, "more flesh on his body!"

"That hurts!" yelped Tamaki, as she pinched at his upper arm. "U-me-_hi_-tooooooo-"

"Kuretake, you are hurting young master Tamaki," cut in a deep male voice, as a suit-clad man stepped up towards them.

"But look at him! He hasn't been eating and-"

"-We'll have breakfast from outside, Kuretake-san, Kadomatsu-san," intervened Umehito, peering down at his friend who nodded his agreement.

"You're going outside?" A warm smile blossomed on the young woman's face. "That's lovely. I'm sorry, don't let me keep you." She too, knew how so very rare it was for Tamaki to leave the house, having played a large part in the small group that had looked after the young man since the accident.

"Would you like one of us to accompany you, Umehito-bocchama?" asked Kadomatsu, the Nekozawa family secretary who was a part of the very small group who knew of the purple-eyed boy's presence in Australia.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary, Kadomatsu-san," said Nekozawa Umehito, shaking his head. "When Kirimi gets back from Auntie's house, tell her that we'll probably be in the park...she might want to join us there."

"Of course, obocchama."

"I'll escort her there myself. We can't have Kirimi-ojousama wandering around on her own, can we?"

"No, that we can't."

"Have a fun day outside, young master Tamaki," piped in Kuretake, knowing how hard the younger boy tried to avoid Japanese names and titles that had once been familiar to him. "Umehito-bocchama, if you need anything-"

"-Yes, we'll call you," interrupted Umehito, nodding at the pair before continuing forward with his friend. "Remember, Tamaki, no pessimism today," he reminded him, as they stepped out of the large house and into the lovely warm yet breezy day outside.

"And no flinching from sunlight either."

"I'm not as bad as I was."

"True. You _have_ improved greatly."

_But let's not dwell on the past, shall we?_

"Come, let's stop by the pancake place first and get some breakfast."

* * *

**A/N**

I hope that that made some kind of sense, just enough so that you got the general gist of things. I will, of curse, go into greater detail about the 'event' and such as the story continues!

Oh, and I'd just like to take the opportunity to point out that this fic will not contain any male/male pairings. The main focus is...well, friendship...and angst. It's simply because I'd love to see further development in the friendships between the very original and unique hosts!

And I think I'll shut up there.

If you liked it, please take the time to tell me what you think.

If you didn't like it, please take the time to tell me what went wrong with this piece!

Till next time!

Siriusgirl1


	2. And Where Are They Now?

**A/N**

Here's chapter two! It's slightly longer than the previous one, only because I had to fit in quite a few different points-of-view in this! Hope things make slightly more sense with this.

* * *

**Chapter Two**: **Where Are They Now?**

"Otousan, will you _stop_ that?" snapped the brunette, exasperatedly, as she both watched and heard the man prance around the apartment, humming aloud.

"But I'm so _happy_, Haruhi..." protested the cross-dresser, coming to a halt by his seated daughter. "Is that a crime?"

Fujioka Haruhi shook her head.

"No. But can you perhaps be 'happy' elsewhere?" she queried, ignoring her father's gasp of mock-hurt. "I'm trying to study."

"You're no fun," mumbled her father, as he sat down opposite her at the low table. "No fun at all..."

"I'm sorry," deadpanned his daughter, not sounding one bit as though she _meant_ it. As she returned her focus to the various books that cluttered the table before her, her father took the opportunity to observe her. Carefully.

Appearance-wise, the girl hadn't changed one bit, except for becoming somewhat...curvy in places she had _lacked_ curves before. Personality-wise...well, she was still – somewhat – the same---

---but it was clear that she wasn't happy.

And seeing this each time he looked at his daughter pained Fujioka Ryoji, for he'd give his little girl the _world_ – if he could – if that was what she wanted.

But the world wasn't what she wanted, and no one knew the whereabouts of...what she _did_want.

"Stop staring, Otousan," murmured Haruhi, her brown eyes meeting his briefly, before she looked away. Ryoji smiled sadly; she avoided looking people in the eye quite a lot these days.

"Are you happy?"

"Very. Absolutely thrilled. And I'd be even _more_ so if you would go away and let me study in-"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Haruhi."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because it's a father's duty to know these things."

"Shouldn't a father be able to tell these things without having to question his daughter?"

"Yes, he should. And he can clearly see that his daughter is _not_ happy...but would like her to admit it herself."

"Otousan," started Haruhi, exasperatedly, "I don't know what-" Ryoji raised a hand, silencing her.

"Just answer the question, Haruhi. Please."

Haruhi was quiet. But Ryoji didn't prod her anymore.

It was as she fingered the strands of her ever-so-slightly longer brown hair that tickled her neck that he knew she had an answer for him.

"I'm in Law school..."

"Yes, you are."

"I have a part-time job..."

"Speaking of which, _must_ you work on Saturdays as well?"

"Yes. At least for a while, for them to see that I _am_ serious about my work. Besides, their recommendations will go a long way in the future. That particular firm is one of the-"

"-Forget I asked."

"I get plenty of food, and I have a place to _live_ in...oh, and I suppose I've got you..."

"...Yes...you...do..." muttered Ryoji, knowing that his daughter hadn't meant to offend him with that last part.

"Doesn't that mean that I'm happy?"

Ryoji remained silent for half a moment.

"I suppose that _does_ mean you should be happy..." he agreed. "But are you?"

"I..." Haruhi paused. She peeked at her father through her longish brown bangs and noticed the concerned expression on his face. "Of course I am, Otousan," she said, as lightly as she could. "I don't know why on earth you think I'm _not_."

"Because you don't look it..."

"Otousan, just because I don't dance around the apartment with a smile on my face doesn't mean that I'm not happy," continued Haruhi. "_Now_, if you don't mind...I'd like to get my studying done."

She looked thoughtful. "I think I'll go to my room though." Ryoji could only watch as she gathered up the heavy books in her arms, before standing up and stalking towards her room, sliding the door shut behind her once she entered it.

She was _not_ happy, not at all, and almost everyone who knew her well could tell that.

She hardly ever went out, unless it was to do the grocery shopping or to head off to her classes. And he got the distinct impression that the only reason why she dragged herself out of bed in the morning was because of her dream of following in her mother's footsteps.

The only time he _did_ see her taking care of her appearance was her once-in-two-months visit to her hairdresser, where she got her hair trimmed into the short hairstyle she had worn it in while in school – although it didn't look boyish on her anymore.

For some reason, she seemed to be near-obsessed with keeping her hair short.

When was the last time he had seen the twenty-year old smile?

He was almost certain that he hadn't seen her smiling _honestly_ – as opposed to smiling to put other people's worries at ease – since _that_ event.

And that was two years ago.

A half bitter-half sad smile formed on his lips.

_Aa...I always knew that you would wreak havoc in her life...you big idiot..._

* * *

"What should we do today?"

"No idea."

"Yeah."

"...Do you want to go somewhere?" Hitachiin Kaoru shook his head at his brother's suggestion.

"Not that I don't _want_ to but-"

"-there's no place that we _can_ go," finished Hikaru, as he put down his pen and stared blankly at the piece of paper he had been doodling on.

"No place that won't bring back memories," mumbled Kaoru, in agreement. A somewhat tense silence filled the room the twenty year old twins were in.

"It wasn't our fault," mumbled Hikaru, softly. And yet, his statement broke the silence, seeming to echo around the room for a moment or two.

"But we shouldn't have been so harsh on him..." commented Kaoru, from his place perched on the window-seat. "We should have understood that he would never, _ever_ do anything to hurt her. Or to hurt _us_."

Hikaru was silent for a brief moment.

"He was old enough to understand that spontaneity of that sort would only cause problems," he said, quietly. "He should have gotten used to _thinking_ things through before going ahead and acting on his impulses."

"Hikaru, how was he to have known that-"

"-Firstly, no one in their right _mind_ would've given him his driver's license. And secondly..." here, Hikaru clenched his hands into fists. "And secondly...we warned him. We _warned_ him that he shouldn't drive."

Kaoru sighed.

"Hikaru, you have to admit that our warnings weren't very...serious," he said. "Partly because some of us were mad that...she appeared to...like him, to..._love_ him. And besides, we did joke around about the fact that no driver would be safe with him behind the wheel of a car."

But the angered expression on Hikaru's face didn't fade. It hadn't faded over the last two years after all...so why would it change _now_?

"He should have been more careful. Should have...looked after her better..."

"Hikaru..." There was a sad expression on Kaoru's face. "He'd have given her the world if she asked it of him..."

But his brother wasn't listening to him.

"There was so much _blood_, Kaoru..." he said, softly, his eyes glazed. "There was blood everywhere – her blood – and her eyes were closed. I thought...I thought she-"

"-She survived didn't she, Hikaru? Even the scars she had on her back, and stomach, are healing, according to Ranka-san," cut in Kaoru, earnestly.

"And _he_ wasn't...hurt at all..."

"It smashed into her side of the car, Hikaru, it wasn't intentional. If he could have exchanged places, you _know_ that he would have."

Hikaru paused.

"It wasn't just me. _You_ were yelling at him too." He watched as his younger brother lowered his head slowly.

"Yes," he whispered. "I was." There was a slight pause. "And that is something that I will regret for...a long time."

Despite his bitterness and anger, Hikaru's heart went out to his brother.

"_He_ yelled at him too..." he muttered. "Out of all of us, wasn't _he_ the one who should have...taken his side?"

Kaoru shook his head.

"I suppose his newly discovered feelings for her made him forget how well he knew his best-friend..."

"Yeah..."

The silence that fell between them seemed to go on for hours, even though it was really only a few minutes. The ticking of the large clock in the room was clearly heard.

"I wonder..."

"No. Don't," said Hikaru, frowning, as he stood up from his chair.

"Hikaru?"

"Come on. We have to leave this place. There's no point sitting around at home like this. Let's just go out. _Anywhere_." Kaoru watched as his brother stalked out of the room, not closing the door behind him as he anticipated him to join him.

He glanced out of the window he was seated beside, taking note of the bright sunlight that engulfed the world outside...much like the way _his_ personality had done...before.

_Hikaru's still mad a__t you._

_But I'm sorry for everything that I said that day._

_The others...well, I wouldn't__ know__ about them_

_W__e've__ drifted apart__ Without our 'anchor'...we've become nothing more than strangers to each other._

_So, c__an't you just..._

_...come back__, tono._

* * *

"Mitsukuni."

"Takashi."

"... ... ..."

"Can I...come inside?"

"You don't have to ask that," reprimanded Morinozuka Takashi gently, as he stepped aside to allow his cousin to enter the house. They stood in the main hallway of the residential dojo, in silence, for a moment or two, before the tallest of the twenty-two year old pair cleared his throat. "Come," he said, as he led the way down the hallway, stopping before the opened doors of a free room that was usually used by the family when entertaining friends or other relatives.

"Arigato," mumbled the fair-haired boy as he sat down at one of the tables.

"I'll see if I can get us some tea and cake..."

"...Hai..."

A few minutes later, Takashi returned and placed the silver tray down on the table before seating himself opposite his cousin. He poured out the tea and served the smaller boy some cake.

And watched as he pushed the piece of cake around his plate.

"How is Yasuchika doing?"

"Good. He doesn't seem to hate me as much now."

"That's good."

There was an awkward pause.

"Takashi, I-" Haninozuka Mitsukuni looked up at his cousin, large brown eyes meeting smaller grey. "-Do you ever...think about it, Takashi?"

Takashi closed his eyes. He had been hoping that he wouldn't bring it up.

"Mitsukuni," he started, "I-"

"-No, I...need to know, Takashi!" Takashi opened his eyes and observed his cousin thoughtfully. The two of them were still as close as they had been before – throughout their whole lives, in fact – and, yes, they were still engrossed with their respective kendo and martial arts skills.

Appearance-wise, he supposed that they _had_ changed over the last few years. He knew that he had gained an inch in height, and had a slightly more toned body as a result of his training. And his cousin...yes, the fair-haired male was still short in comparison to him, but he had grown significantly taller, to become of average height, and was not scrawny as he was before – even though he still received whispers and squeals of 'cute!' from time to time.

One thing they had in common, however, was that both of them held a sad light in their eyes whenever they were positive that no one was watching them.

"Yes," he said, quietly. "I _do_." Mitsukuni stared at him with those sad brown eyes of his.

"I...keep on picturing his face..." the voice broke. "And it hurts."

"I know," whispered Takashi.

"I should have been there."

"I don't think it would have made a difference," mumbled Takashi, as the memories began their attempts at trying to escape the block he had put them behind.

"How do you know that?" challenged Mitsukuni, taking a small bite of the cake.

"He wasn't listening to anyone..."

The shorter boy snorted darkly.

"From what has happened, I beg to differ," he said, just as darkly. "He certainly seemed to listen to _them_."

Takashi found that he couldn't quite fault his cousin for sounding bitter when he spoke of them.

"Aa..." he agreed, "but he wasn't listening to anyone who tried to tell him that it _wasn't_ his fault." The dark expression was replaced on his face with a saddened one.

"I should have been there," he whispered again.

_I__ failed him..._he thought, brown eyes dimming, _a__fter everything he did for me...I wasn't there the one time I could have actually been of _use_. The one time I could have _helped _him...I wasn't there..._

"You couldn't help it."

_You regret not being there, Mitsukuni, _thought Takashi, bitterly, _but I regret _being_ there. Being there and not being able to do anything more than ask him not to do anything foolish. If I had done something, _said_ something more...perhaps-_

"I miss him, Takashi."

"I know..." _Because, somehow, I'm sure that we all do too..._

* * *

"Kyoya-sama, here's your coffee."

"Thank you, Tachibana. If you could just put it down over there..."

"Hai. Is there anything else that I can get you, Kyoya-sama?"

"No, thank you. You may leave." The bespectacled med-school student stood up from where he had been seated before his desk and laptop and moved over towards the coffee table instead. He had only just sat down on the comfortable low couch when Tachibana bowed his head at him and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Picking up his mug of coffee, the successful twenty-one year old held it in his hands for a moment, allowing the warmth of the item to seep through to his hands before raising the mug to his lips. The taste of the black, sugarless liquid helped wake his somewhat drowsy self.

He was in the process of closing his eyes for just a moment when he gave a start, choosing to stare at the mug instead. There was nothing wrong with the coffee – no, it had been made for him as it always was...

...but it was the _mug_ that caught his attention.

It was a dark blue mug with the large yellow rayed suns on both sides – apparently hand-painted with the greatest care. Of course, the yellow paint was chipped, here and there, but that was hardly surprising; he _had_ had the mug for eight years after all.

Eight years...

Dark eyes narrowed behind the slender glasses that he still wore. Eight years ago...he had had his first meeting with the vivacious...

...the vivacious...

...the –

He shook his head firmly, trying to clear it of that particular train of thought, but he should have known that that wouldn't work. When had a simple shake of the head been able to get thoughts of..._him_ out of his mind?

The smile that formed on the dark-haired boy's lips was far from amused. In fact, it wasn't even the usual frighteningly-polite one that he seemed to favour. But he didn't notice it, for his mind was dwelling on other things. Or rather, on other _people_. _One _person in particular.

"That idiot..." he murmured aloud, unaware of the fact that he was tightly gripping the mug he had received as a present from...an idiot. "Always being...stupid..."

He frowned at the thoughts that started rising in his head, followed quickly by question after question after question. Where was he now? He sometimes wondered if perhaps he had...left the country, but how would he have managed to do _that_ without someone knowing? Wherever he was...how was he? What was he doing? Who was he with?

Ootori Kyoya wasn't delusional enough to wonder _why_ he had suddenly...disappeared. No, that was the question that the twittering girls, who barely knew the golden-haired man, would ask. True, he may not know what exactly had been going on in said man's mind at that time...but he knew enough of his mentality and enough of what had _happened_ on that day, two years ago...

He had told no one of what he had said to him at the beginning, except for the Hitachiin twins who had already been there when he had arrived, glasses askew.

He had told no one of how he had failed to keep his cool, except for the Hitachiin twins who had been there with him, having 'lost their cool' long before he had arrived – although they seemed content with continuing the verbal dressing down.

He had told no one of the expression of pure hurt that had flashed across the distraught man's face at what was said to him, except for the Hitachiin twins who had probably seen it as well – if their rage hadn't blinded them.

And he had told no one about the regret that continued to grow in him, especially when he looked around him and spotted something; anything; that reminded him of the golden-haired man.

It was surprising how trivial things like a bright and sunny day in the summer could remind him of said man.

_...Dammit..._

It wasn't _fair_. They had been mad, too mad at the time, to register the fact that she would _be alright. _

They had been too mad at the fact that he had put her in danger to care about anything else.

Why else would they have demanded he leave her and not dare to return to her side? Why else had they said they took back their faith in him, that he didn't deserve that _or_ her? Why else had they told him that all he ever did was cause trouble for others wherever he went?

Why else did _he_ tell him that he wouldn't mind if he never saw him again _or_ was forced to put up with his selfish acts anymore?

_Damn you..._

_...Where the hell _are_ you, Tamaki?!_

* * *

**A/N**

The next update might take a few days, but that's because I've got exams looming on the horizon...before a three month summer break - woohoo!! Ahem. Anyway.

I just realized that I make myself sad whenever I work on this story (oh dear, that sounds sad - in a different sense - doesn't it?)...because I don't like the thought of the Hosts all going their separate ways and never going back to _what_ they were. But then again, that's inevitable, isn't it?

Ack, I'm not making sense.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter too!

See ya soon!

Siriusgirl1


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